Akaaka To Moeru
by dragonfly360
Summary: He regarded me with an intense gaze for a few seconds. "Who are you?" Things are never that simple when a Shinigami Captain finds you half-starving and wholly hybrid in the middle of a park in Karakura. Because simple would be too easy, and because him and his mismatch collection of Shinigami might be exactly what I need. Revamped "Burn Brightly". Some dark scenes, themes. HitsuOC
1. Chapter 1

Hey folks! This is the bigger, better, and definitely more realistic version of _Akaaka to Moeru/Burn Brightly_. The old story is still up, so if OOCness and fluff is your thing, go read it! I'm publishing this one chapter and **depending on the response**, will upload the rest shortly, as this story is entirely completed already. **If you like what you read, tell me, because otherwise, you'll be left with one chapter.** This isn't a threat, nor am I demanding a certain amount of reviews, but I'm not going to bother uploading a story nobody likes. I've already had the fun of writing this, but I do like to hear what people think about my writing, whether it's good or bad. So please leave a review, whatever you think.

_Note_: chapters are quite short, at around 3000 words, so this is bang on the standard length. Also, I will try to avoid more A/Ns because I feel they would disrupt the flow of the story, excepting the one at the end of this chapter.

_Another Note_: the characters in this are older than in the original BB; Hitsugaya is meant to be physically around eighteen or nineteen. Other young characters (Hanatarō) are also a few years older than in the anime/manga (discounting timeskip).

_**Warning**_: very infrequent heavy/strong language (particularly this chapter), referenced character death, referenced torture, adult themes (as the story progresses, and not much), etc.

_**Blanket disclaimer**_: I didn't own it last time either, sadly... No copyright infringement intended. The only thing here created by me is my OC.

- Chapter One -

"What the _hell_ is going on?"

I muttered as I flailed about with my hands, trying to push myself off the ground. My muscles were trembling with the sudden exertion. How did I end up on the ground? What happened to whatever I was sitting on? ...What was I sitting on? And why couldn't I open my eyes, for God's sake?

"How did I get down here? ...And why the hell am I talking to myself?" I muttered lowly, obviously to myself as I assumed I was alone and that nobody was seeing this slightly embarrassing episode of helplessness. I eventually decided to just rest on my elbows.

I started to worry that I was back in cell four, but I pushed the doubt away and tried to think calm and rationally. _Retrace your steps..._

The last thing I remembered was sitting on the swing, wondering how long it would be before I mustered up the courage to just go home. I shook my head slowly and felt around carefully to see if there was anything I could use to help me get up. All I could feel was earth, which went higher the further away it was from me. "What the hell..." I muttered under my breath as I deduced that I was in a crater or something similar. I reached up a slightly shaking hand and finally knew why I could only see blackness. My eyes were frozen shut... my eyes! _What the _fuck_! _

What was I going to do if I couldn't _see_?

"You were too close." A rough male voice states. Had I been in any state to move around, I would have jumped about three feet in the air, or screamed. But I was too tired and I couldn't be bothered. The mysterious stranger would have to go without a dramatic reaction.

"Who are you?" I asked flatly.

"That is irrelevant. You should be worrying about your wound."

He interrupted just as dispassionately, and I fumed silently, grtting my teeth, eventually deciding to grudgingly listen to whatever this random man had to say.

Instead of words, I felt something warm brush against my eyelids, unfreezing them. I opened my eyes to see something blue-green filling up my view. I blinked away the blurriness and realised it was a pair of eyes. I also saw that the boy – and he was a _boy_, he was hardly tall enough to be a man – had spiky white hair and that he was wearing traditional Japanese clothes, namely the Shinigami uniform.

Well, shit.

I didn't let anything show on my face as he helped me to my feet and I saw we _were_ in a small crater, still in the park.

"What happened?" I asked as we released our grip and started walking up the side of the crater.

The boy sighed and said, almost to himself, "Why is it all the people in Karakura town can see me?" He turned around and I saw that he was wearing something remarkably like a white floor-length cloak with the kanji ten written on it... and a sword strapped on his back. He shouted a name.

"Matsumoto!"

_Is he old enough to have a sword? To have entered the Academy, maybe... But my God things have changed._

Almost instantly a tall woman, with hair that wasn't quite red or blond, rather large -ahem- assets and a more revealing version of... the young'un's old-fashioned clothes (minus the Captain cape thingy), appeared. She was also wearing a scarf. In the middle of summer.

"Yes Taichou?"

She exclaimed exuberantly, smiling widely and looking at me with unrestrained curiosity.

"Matsumoto, I want you to get Hanatarō for this human's wounds."

She glanced at me and then looked down at my leg, making me look down also, and we both noticed at the same time the gash that was running from ankle to knee. I cursed under my breath. _Great. Just what I needed._

"Yes, Taichou!"

The woman disappeared and I hesitantly poked at my wound, surprised I hadn't noticed before. I straightened up as the boy turned toward me and I noticed, with some satisfaction I might add, that he was one of the few people that was only slightly taller than me. Usually I arrived to peoples' shoulders, or even elbows, aggravatingly. Man, he was short. At least as a girl it wasn't so unusual, but as a boy... he must have been relentlessly teased. _Relentlessly_.

"What's your name, human?"

I ignored his tone and replied politely. "I'm Shizuka, and you speak as if you weren't one."

"One what?"

"A human."

Inwardly I smiled at myself; _gotcha!_ He looked furious with himself, but he was hiding it very well. Too bad for him I'd had spent way too much time around pokerfaces.

"What else would I be but human?"

"Well, I would say you were a Shinigami." Not that Shinigami weren't human. Well, they were just dead human. And not human in the 'mortal, hasn't died, five senses, lives on Earth' sense.

I was being risky... But what did I have to lose? Not much, if you're wondering.

The boy suddenly looked slightly confused, slightly wary, and very, very irritated. He raised his eyebrow and said in a patronising tone:

"Shinigami? You think that they really exist?"

"Yes, of course. Who else wears black kimonos, isn't seen by most humans, has swords and gets rid of the Hollows that always seem to show up here? Well, the ones here and the ones everywhere else," I corrected myself.

I knew too much. I could tell the moment he dropped the façade, because he looked at me with not a little suspicion and I got the distinct feeling that if his sword hilt had been next to his hip, his hand would have been resting on it. I looked back at him, showing a casual confidence that I wanted to believe I truly felt.

"How do you know?"

"My father is... was, a Shinigami." _Damn, now they'll want to know who he is... Nice going._

"I see," He says rather neutrally, but I could see it in his face. He was going to have to interrogate me now. I wondered if I had made the right choice. I wasn't underestimating the young Captain's mettle, he was a Captain after all, but I had been led to believe that Seretei would have nothing against me. In fact, I had been assured by the one person I trusted that I could confide in them and that they would protect me.

At this point his Lieutenant reappeared, a young guy about my age with a shy demeanour following. I saw shorty send her a look. _Get ready._

He turned back to me, a hint of apology sliding over his face before he readied himself for anything I might do to escape, dropping slightly onto his heels and into his centre of gravity. I realised that I might as well avoid the trouble of a fight. I was in no condition to even mess around. I sighed, holding out my arms.

"You don't have to boink me over the head. I'll answer all the questions you have." Well, maybe not _all_ of them.

He didn't actually looked that surprised, but his face did hold a little detached curiosity as he straightened. Matsumoto clapped me in irons and Hanatarō attended to my wound. The cuffs had a chain between them, so I could hold my arms normally. I was, of course, totally visible to the normal human, so it would have been slightly suspicious to have me walking along, by myself, holding my hands together like they were tied. Once Hanatarou had done a rushed bandaging, we set off.

It wasn't too far into the trip, taking shortcuts through the alleyways (they obviously knew this town well. Interesting. Either they were fast learners, or Captain duties _had_ changed), that I abruptly realised how tired I felt. I glanced down at my restraints.

_Shit._

"These cuffs are inhibitors, aren't they?" I asked, looking at the white-haired boy, whose name I still had to learn. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Why?"

I held up my hands. "I feel like I just ran a mile. It's too much," I shook my head. I didn't feel ashamed at my weakness, I no longer had such petty concerns. Let them think of me what they wished.

Both his eyebrows raised this time, and (after a second of checking that it wasn't a trap) he tapped the cuffs with his middle and index fingers, loosening the restrictions around my reiatsu flow. I nodded my thanks, which he ignored, and we continued on our way. I saw the Captain-Lieutenant pair conversing lowly ahead of me, and I sighed as I wondered with a detached interest what they were saying.

We eventually arrived at a rather inconspicuous and rather charming semi-detached house, complete with a small front garden. It even had flowers. I recognised roses, tulips, heather and poppies but the rest was totally beyond me. The door was a pale blue, complete with a stained-glass windowpane, and it looked nice surrounded by the white walls. Part of the house was covered in a climber, probably ivy. It looked like the retirement home of any typical grandparents. All that was missing was the childrens' toys (grandchildrens' really, of course) scattered around the grass and piled up against the wall.

Whitey led the way, arms still folded inside his over-sized sleeves. I was two steps behind, feeling the warmth of his Lieutenant at my back shadowing me. I looked around curiously as we entered.

Oh my. This _was_ a woman's home. It wasn't covered in pictures of kittens, or pink, but this was most definitely prey to a female touch. Just where was this place? Did Shinigami rent now?

"Where is this?" I asked, curious. I suppose it would have been suspicious to blindfold me, but they certainly didn't stop to worry about me seeing exactly where this was, or how to get here. Maybe this was the house of... oh no.

Please do not let this be Inoue Orihime's house.

_Fuck. What do I do if I meet her? _I groaned inwardly, but pushed the debate to the back of my mind. I would play it by ear... if it ever happened. And if I ever met Kurosaki... well. I would try not to do anything rash and or irrational.

"Safehouse," Whitehead grunts as he starts leading me down some steps.

Thank God for that, I breathed silently.

Perhaps that was why they had the feminine touch? To make this house seem even more inoffensive. It was all just a disguise. It was postcard quality and idyllic. Whoever would suspect anything? They might even assume that it was the property of an eldery couple that had it as a summer home.

Though who would buy a summer home in Karakura was beyond me.

I realised I was being taken to the basement. Which probably had no windows and a chair with straps on it. I exhaled silently. I couldn't expect more now, could I?

_You chose this. You're finally getting to choose – as much as you'll ever be able to. Don't knock it._

I could have done this all differently. Pretended I didn't see him, couldn't hear him. I could've groped around a little more and rubbed my eyes until they were fine. By then he probably would have been gone, and then I could've just gone where I needed to go. I could have done that. But I didn't. Because if I didn't find what I was looking for, I would be lost and stuck. At least here I knew where I stood. I knew what to expect here. 'Who are you where do you come from how do you know about us blah blah blah?'

I looked around the little room. A line of small rectangular windows let sunlight filter down diagonally through the dust motes in the air. I realised that the house must have a a back garden, judging from where those were. I continued my inspection and saw a long wooden bench, complete with a dusty toolbox and tool rack, as well as an old lawn-mower stowed underneath at the far end. Various misc items were scattered around.

And of course, the chair. There had to be a chair. Well, at least there were no straps. I walked over to it without prompt from the short guy, sitting down heavily and feeling hungry and tired. But mostly hungry.

"Well, let's get this over with," He muttered, dragging another chair over and sitting down across from me, crossing his arms out of what looked like habit.

He regarded me with an intense gaze for a few seconds before launching into this impromptu twenty questions.

"Who are you?"

"I told you."

"Tell me again."

So he didn't like to play? Very well. Nothing to lose anyway.

I raised my chin defiantly.

"I am a Shinigami-human hybrid, captured by Aizen as a child to be an experiment, most likely because of your friend Kurosaki-san. However, after your first invasion – which _failed_ I might add and only succeeded in killing my father – that is, the second one, I managed to distract Aizen long enough to escape. I trekked through Hueco Mundo and a good part of real world Japan to get back here, my hometown, in search of my mother, who was never in Hueco Mundo."

He started at me for a good minute, jaw clenched and arms tense as he slowly leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He was far enough away so that he didn't seem that much lower than me, but I looked down at his eyes as his hands came together.

"Who is your mother?"

"No one you would know. I only just remember my old home."

He fell silent for another second.

"I take it she's not expecting you?"

"I have no idea if she's alive or dead or if she even knows who I am."

He considered that before opening his mouth in another query.

"Do you have a Shinigami form?"

"Yes."

"And are you still alive?"

I didn't manage to keep my forehead smooth.

"I'm afraid that my knowledge of what I am is not clear; I was never given any real information about what they were doing to me, or better put, I was never told what the goal was. I may still be alive, or perhaps I am full Shinigami and this is a fake body designed to decieve me."

"If you could, what would you do right now?"

That threw me for a second, but I came back with a comtemptuous glance.

"I've said that. I would go to my mother's, see if she's still there."

"Contact her?"

I shrugged. "Depends. But I'm not so naïve so as to think that I can go back to my old life." _It's been too long, that's for sure._

"Were you planning on trying to gain entry into Soul Society?"

I gritted my teeth. It was innocent enough and logical, but Shinigami had started this all – and they would most likely finish it.

"I don't plan on getting there without dying first... Don't get any bright ideas," I said, my voice heavy with bitterness and warning.

He didn't seem to like that, as he abruptly leant back against his chair, regarding me stolidly.

"It seems you've been spending too much time with the defects. In case you have forgotten or are unaware, we are currently in a full-out war operation against Aizen. I assure you, there are plenty who hate him as much as you do."

_Yourself included_, I finished for him, eyeing him.

"Don't make it a competetion. I don't want anyone doing anything they don't mean to try and prove that they're right, the good guys fighting the good fight, or whatever the fuck else." I shrugged again dismissively.

We were silent for a fair few minutes then, as I heard sounds from the steps, and I saw his lieutenant appear. Mr. Nameless slid his eyes to the side slowly, considering, until they fixed on my again.

"I'll make you a deal. If I were to ask Matsumoto to accompany you to your mother's house, and then return here, would you agree to tell me all the important details that you missed?"

I laughed at that.

"Okay, as long as we get to have a rational discussion about what happens after that, and I get your name."

His eyebrow raised. "Done. It's Hitsugaya."

I laughed again, letting him see that I most definitely appreciated his sense of humour. One first name in exchange for one surname? Oh, this was funny.

"Well that was a three-sixty," Matsumoto commented. She had frozen at hearing her name, and I looked up to see her holding a tray laden down with a plate of sandwiches, a banana, a packet of crisps, a drink of orange juice, and a little packet of plain biscuits. "I didn't know if you were vegetarian or not or what, so I tried to get you a little of everything."

She set the plate down on the bench, and I wondered if they had been discussing this on their way here. It was kind of sweet really.

"Well. We'll keep you down here for now. There's a lot of time for you to go – how far away is it?"

I smiled tightly. "About ten minutes."

"Then you have thirty minutes to eat, after which you will leave. I doubt I need to tell you this, but don't try anything."

He left the room, and Matsumoto smiled at me before leaving, shutting the door after her. I started to eat, beginning with the bacon sandwiches. _I wish it was less dusty around here_, I thought grumpily.

Thirty minutes passed in much less time than I expected, and soon Matsumoto – who informed me cheerfully that her full name was Matsumoto Rangiku – was escorting me out of the quiet house. She gestured for me to lead. I hesitated a second, and then started off in the direction I was almost certain was right.

I let out a breath. Worry, fear, anticipation. I hoped I found her. I hope she was alive and that the one thing remaining of my old life wasn't as scarred as I was.

* * *

_So, what do we think? Should I carry on uploading the rest? Drop me a review and I'll adore you, and you'll get more of the story to hopefully enjoy—just sayin'._


	2. Chapter 2

- Chapter Two -

I couldn't believe they were letting me do this. I honestly couldn't believe that I was actually here, standing in front of my old front gate. They'd even taken off the cuffs.

Everything was the same – but it wasn't what it once was. I scanned it, looking for faults in the perfect image I had in my mind. I noticed how the door had been changed, the front lawn was tidier, the curtains were entirely different and the willow tree I had cherished as a child was now overhanging a swinging bench. I wondered if the same flowers I remembered – jasmine, I never forgot the smell – meant that it was the same woman tending them.

God, what on _Earth_ should I say?

I shut that thought away; I didn't know anything yet. I wanted to sneak around, so I turned to Matsumoto, hidden in the shadows of the other side of the road just like me, and told her that I wanted to get closer without being so visible. She nodded, seemingly totally prepared for this request, and proceeded to shove me out of my body forcefully. She winked at me, now in Shinigami form, as she produced what looked a lot like a thermal blanket – over-sized tinfoil, basically – and draped it over my living body.

"It makes you invisible." She said.

I raised one eyebrow and lowered the other.

"So why didn't you just cover me in that?"

"It's restricting, seeing as it requires almost total stillness to properly function. Urahara's working on it, but the bottom line is, right now breathing is the only thing you can do under it."

She replied offhandedly, and I wondered just who these people were. I couldn't push it and ask questions –yet. But I would.

"Am I going to suffocate?" I asked, worried for my health.

She smiled. "No worries. That aspect of it has been thoroughly tested. And anyway," she added, turning away towards the house, "if you do, you can murder Urahara, which is always amusing for everyone involved."

I made a face at her gung-ho attitude towards my life but followed her towards the house. I caught my breath as I laid a hand on the gate and slowly pushed it forward. I half smiled half grimaced. The latch was still broken then. I stepped through and walked up the path, turning off at the last minute to peer in through the curtains of the living room window.

And there she was.

For a few moments, all I could see was her face. I might have even forgotten to breathe. Then I took in the rest of the picture, and my breath caught again.

There were three young children settled in around her.

My eyes drifted over to the TV: Teletubbies. My eyes stung a little as I realised I remembered more than I had thought. I looked back at who I knew was my mother; there was no mistaking that face. The same green eyes – where I got mine from – were shining as she talked to her youngest, who looked about two, pretending to grab his little finger and watching him squeal as he celebrated that he was too fast to catch, evading her every time. The other two, who looked like six-year-old twins, a boy and a girl, had their gazes glued to the screen.

It was such an innocent and blissful picture.

I looked down, ignoring the presence behind me. Matsumoto was unashamedly nosy, but at least she didn't try to hide it.

My gaze drifted back up to my one remaining parent. I knew it no longer mattered if she remembered me or not, now, because there was no way for me to intrude into her life anymore. She had moved on, with or without memories of her first child. I wouldn't knock on the door and try to walk back into her life, and I wouldn't let her know I was alive; she was happy, and that might ruin what she had managed to build after being abandoned. My head glanced up again as a tall man walked into the living room, carrying a glass of water and some biscuits - party rings. My mother smiled at him gratefully and took the drink, watching as he handed out the treats equally to the older two. The younger boy looked upset and almost began to wail, but then his father rolled his eyes – he had known this would happen from the beginning – and revealed that he had brought 'Chihijo' something even better. The little boy went shrill with delight as he was lifted up and carried into what I assumed was the kitchen.

I shook my head. I needed to leave: I had seen enough now.

I watched her a moment longer and then wished her goodbye, feeling my other half comfort me. I sighed and looked up at the sky.

_You knew this might happen, Chickie..._

_I know_, I replied. But that didn't make reality any easier. I had to accept that I was dead, to her at least, and that it was as simple as that. And the dead should stay dead.

Turning back towards Matsumoto, I acknowledged her nod and let her lead the way back to the other side of the road. Removing the foil, she let me climb back into my body. We set off at a brisk pace back towards the safehouse.

I forced myself not to glace back.

* * *

When we arrived back a short time later, Hitsugaya was leaning against the stone wall next to the closed front door, which he let me open, seeing as I was visible and he most definitely wasn't. We walked into the kitchen and he gestured for me to take a seat.

I glanced around, noting the now-empty tray on the counter, as well as the plain white kitchen units and very shiny silver fridge. The cooker was enourmous and the whole place could've walked out of a catalogue. The only personal things I saw here were a few shopping lists on the fridge, a few flowery tea-towels and a tile that had some writing in a language I couldn't decipher.

I looked back at Hitsugaya. He had his arms crossed and was leaning back in his chair opposite me again.

"So, where do we go from here?"

He shrugged. "It seems you were telling the truth, in which case I want to know the name of your father."

I sighed and looked down. I bit the inside of my lip. "I was planning on going by the name 'Ayame' but I suppose I should tell you that my name is Nakamura."

He was stunned. Before he had been surprised, because he had been quiet, but this time he was astounded, because he was silent and his eyes were visibly wider. It made the teal really stand out. Then his gaze narrowed and he regarded me seriously.

"I hope you are telling the truth."

I shrugged. "Unless he lied about his name... Hook me up to a lie machine, I don't care."

"Why are you so indifferent?"

My eyebrows raised. _Indifferent about what exactly, Mr. Hypocrite? _But I smirked self-depricatingly and leant my elbows on the table.

"I've spent the last decade either escaping from him, or being at his mercy - the master of deceit and illusion. Who's to say that this isn't some sick trick he's created? Some game, where he toys with me and then takes it all away? What on Earth do I have to assure me that this is real?" I shrugged once more, leaning back. "It's better for me to treat this as a holiday. And if it ever ends – I won't have invested too much in a useless web of lies."

He was quiet again at that. "Has he done that before?"

"Oh, sure, I was mainly for Szayel, but I was Aizen's test run for new tecniques or abilities." I replied flippantly, wishing that it bothered me as little as I made out. I heard a deep breath from the other side of the table.

"Alright, then, I'll leave further questioning for after you've proved your loyalty... That is, if the idea of being permanently stationed here on Earth interests you."

I was surprised. "Well, yes. Seretei has nothing to offer me, as such, and I've already had a lifetime of Hueco Mundo."

He nodded sharply, once. "As I thought. This way, you have freedom and flexibility – and there's no risks for us."

I tilted my head and glanced at Matsumoto, slightly perturbed when I realised she wasn't behind me anymore. "Were you watching or something? How did you already know I could get Shinigami form that way? It could have been unawakened, or more difficult to achieve."

"I assumed that Szayel wouldn't have had much to do after a while without separating your soul and your body. It would have been a waste."

I scowled at him. "Bingo, jackass, but thanks for thinking of me as a resource."

"I didn't," He replied somewhat softly. "I meant no offense. But it is my job to think like they do... to try and forsee their next movements."

My eyebrows went to the ceiling. "You mean _that's_ what you're doing here?"

"Yes. This is also about the closest thing to a front line we've ever seen. You don't have to get involved," he eyed me speculatively "But somehow I think revenge would be sweet. And in any case, once the battle is over, you can carry on exterminating Hollows and performing soul burials around here. Yamamoto wanted to keep people here anyway, and this way we don't lose any men."

It was such a good offer – but it was also a reasonable proposition. I had no doubt that they had lost a lot of people to this war. And it was strange to think, during the time I had been running away, running here, the Gotei Thirteen had been fighting Aizen every day trying to take him down. I wondered how long Hitsugaya and his team had been here, and how many there were.

"And just how do I prove my 'loyalty' to you?"

His head cocked. "Yamamoto wanted to send you into the fight, but I suggested that you spend some time here first before deciding yourself. If the regular work doesn't interest you, or if you want dessert served cold, you can join our cause... However, becoming a full Shinigami is required."

"Kurosaki is still a hybrid," I informed him calmly, trying to avoid the bitter taste his deception left in my mouth.

"I don't mean anatomically..." He said slowly, trying to find the words as he lowered his hands palm-down on the table. "I mean you would have to register as a Substitute Shinigami, at the very least. Freelance would no longer be an option."

I didn't know if battle was what I wanted. I had had enough of Aizen, I thought. But I also knew that if I had the chance... I would attack him. My life didn't hold much meaning or hope, and if I managed to wound him, even, that would be enough for me. I just wanted the evil that he represented – and indeed, the man himself who had done so much – to die. To wither away and disappear. To see that happen before my eyes would be the most I could ever ask for.

"As much as I would like to see the life leave that man's eyes, I doubt I would achieve anything. Freelance is good enough for me."

He nodded and then rose, gesturing for me to do the same and to follow him. He led me down the hall into a bedroom. It was very plain, with dark wooden furniture and cream-coloured walls. I had a decent-sized wardrobe next to a small chest of draws, below a fairly large mirror, as well as a little bedside table and a sofa pushed against the opposite wall to my double bed, which had pristine white covers. It was the nicest room I'd been in since... forever.

I walked over to the sofa and slumped down on it. It was comfy. I looked up at Hitsugaya in disbelief. "This is mine?"

He nodded. "Yes. It's technically mine, but I never use it. This is a better use, especially now."

I waited for an elaboration. '_Especially now'...?_

"You won't be able to leave for a few days while I continue questioning you."

I realised he had never directly answered my question as to how to prove my loyalty, or at least eminity to Aizen. It must be by just sticking around, putting up with some questions, fighting when I was needed and not doing anything untoward. Doable.

"Fair enough. As long as no pliers are involved."

This place felt like a hotel. I went over to the chest of drawers and peeked inside, finding nothing. Then I opened the wardrobe, finding only hangars and one plain white nightdress that still had a price tag on it. _Hm, I guess he already discussed making this my room with Matsumoto._ Finally I inspected my bedside table, which had a little drawer. It contained one black glove, which I lifted and presented to Hitsugaya, raising an eyebrow as my lips quirked.

What is this? I asked him silently. He shrugged. "What?"

I chuckled lowly. "Nothing..." I turned back to put it back where I had found it. "So," I began, rooting around the back of the drawers to check there was no Bible or anything, "I take it your lieutenant likes shopping?"

"That she does," He intoned dryly. "She has insisted on a trip into the centre. Obviously, all expenses will be paid by me."

"Ah, the joys of being a Captain," I quipped sarcastically as I straightened and worked the kinks out of my neck. I could do with a nice long shower right now... But they had already been kind enough. I looked over my shoulder at Hitsugaya. "Thank you," I told him in my most serious voice. He met my eyes and nodded after a moment.

We both knew that he could have killed me by now.

"If you get hungry, there's food in the fridge," He informed me. I bade him goodnight and changed into my night dress, going slowly and carefully so as not to take off my bandage. I went over to the window and looked out at the front garden before opening it and taking in a deep breath of fresh air. It wasn't quite dark, in fact the first streaks of sunset were running through the sky, but I'd been carrying around a bone-deep tire that I might finally be able to start alleviating. I left the window slightly open and lay down my bed, staring at the plain white ceiling. I had never expected this to happen, to suddenly have a life and a plan... I knew what would happen from here on in. This is what I had been trying to achieve... I had simply wanted to see my mother and get somewhere, anywhere. Away from him. And I had seen her, and I had gotten somewhere, and I was as safe as I would ever be from that maniac.

I had a place in the world now, and sure it was a little unsteady, and hardly consolidated and secure, I was still... part of something. Hitsugaya hadn't been that hostile, really, and Matsumoto was friendly, though I guessed she was like that with everyone. Although they didn't trust me quite yet, they had made me feel... welcome. And I didn't feel out of place here.

I smiled at the ceiling. _I made it._


	3. Chapter 3

- Chapter Three -

I opened my eyes to sunlight streaming in through the window. It was warm and I felt sluggish. For a minute I lay in bed thinking about what had happened the day before. I smiled again and rolled to my side, placing my feet on the pretty parquet floor before slowly raising myself and stretching leisurely. I smiled at the wall with its simple square mirror, seeing myself properly for the first time. I suddenly stopped smiling.

_Holy soul in Heaven_. I stared with wide eyes. Was that really me? I looked _old_. Old and tired. As I stood and moved closer, I noticed the dark rings under my eyes from lack of sleep, the unkempt hair, the roughness around the edges and the slightly stretched and haggard look of someone underfed for far too long.

And I was trying to not appear weak? I had a lot of food and a long way to go.

Of course, I had made no attempts to big up my abilities or my strength, but I didn't want to look exactly like someone who could be manipulated and taken advantage of. And someone who was trying to act all tough when they could barely stand they had so little meat on their bones, was even worse. It was a bit pathetic, if I was honest. I glanced down at my wrists and wrapped my thumb and middle finger around one, finding that they overlapped far too much for my tastes. I lifted up my dress and saw my ribs, and how my underwear was just clinging onto my protruding hips. I dropped the garment, vaguely repulsed.

I was so desperate to eat – oh, I was hungry, sure, but it was less of a physical need and more what my mind needed to believe that I was strong – I didn't even bother getting changed before heading out of my room and back to the kitchen. I found Hitsugaya sitting at the table, drinking some tea as he read a newspaper.

"Funny, I didn't think you'd be interested in the day's news." I almost commented on how children usually didn't, but I didn't want to pointlessly antagonise the only person I thought I trusted to keep to his word. He shrugged noncommittally and gestured with his free hand toward some cupboards as he downed the last of his drink. I opened them to find cereal and bowls stacked neatly next to each other. I glanced around inconspicuously and spotted what looked like the cutlery draw before picking a random box because I could see strawberries in the picture. I examined it with mild interest as I grabbed a bowl and spoon, before using my intuition to home in on the fridge as the likely location of the milk.

And so, there we were, Hitsugaya and I sitting opposite each other in total silence. I was struck for a moment with the incredulous internal inquiry as to how the hell I got here. I watched as Matsumoto stumbled in, blearily rubbing her eyes, before taking one look at her Captain's face and leaving again.

"How long have you been travelling to get here?"

I looked up and saw that he'd put his newspaper to one side and had his folded arms resting on the round table. I shrugged.

"I don't have a proper way to measure the time, but I would guess a year or two."

His eyebrows raised. My answer was probably suspicious, but it was true.

"And how did you leave Hueco Mundo?"

I barked out a short, bitter laugh.

"With a lot of balls and an opportunity from an idiot Adjuchas."

I didn't mention how, determined to stay human, I had been in my living, breathing self and was hardly able to defend and let alone attack. In the end I pretty much fell through his hole between the worlds with huge claws chasing me, adding to the trenches he'd already cut into my back and side.

My scars were ugly, huge, and numerous. I wasn't a healer and I had barely been able to staunch the bleeding, but I had lived, even though any wounds I was stupid enough to continue collecting never healed properly. Those particular ones had huge ridges and made me look like a patchwork quilt. Even now I found it painful to raise my arms above my head or turn my body to the side.

I watched as Hitsugaya chewed this over.

"I see. Well, then, I suppose I had better test out your abilities."

_Ah, shit. _I had achieved Bankai, but I had no idea whether that would sort me into the 'useful asset' category or the 'too dangerous to let live' category. And if I hid it now, and they ever found out (which they undoubtedly would) they wouldn't look at me the same way again. I bit my nails.

"Wait."

Hitsugaya paused at the kitchen doorway, turning his head to look back at me. I took a deep breath and met his eyes.

"Two important things. You never healed my leg, and I have other injuries besides, and... I managed my second release."

It was true. I suppose that the 'Hanatarō' character who was meant to heal me didn't because I had gone off with Matsumoto. I shifted my weight off that leg as I realised and cursed inwardly as I realised just how beat up I was. I had a long list of grievances and I had spent too much time walking without a limp, using my arms normally, and all around trying to appear in more or less good condition. I had blocked out the pain too much, but now that I was thinking about it, awareness – and of course, the delightful agony – was trickling back.

Hitsugaya went into statue-mode for a long minute as he watched my face.

"Show me."

I blinked. "My wounds or—"

"Your Bankai."

I sighed deeply and lifted a hand to massage my temple. "Look, it's not that simple—"

"Then explain it to me."

It seemed that he was done being Mr. Nice Guy when it came to this. It was obviously too serious for niceties. But nevertheless, I didn't appreciate him cutting me off and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I've only managed to do it once, actually in Hueco Mundo, fighting Aizen. I managed to wound him enough to slow him down. I got this-" here I gesture downwards towards my body "-and legged it into the desert. I haven't been able to do it since."

He nodded slowly. Then he jerked his head back into the house. "The room two doors down from yours is our infirmary. Go ahead, Hanatarō should already be there."

I nodded my thanks and made my way deeper into the house. I looked around curiously; this house was a veritable Tardis. It was a lot larger than it looked on the outside. I reached the infirmary and knocked, opening the door without waiting for an answer. I found the shy guy sitting at a desk reading a book. He glanced up at me, startled. This room was stark white, with an uncomfortable-looking operating table pushed against the far wall and several typical hospital beds (complete with those metal railings) dotted around. Surrounding the desk were floor to ceiling cabinets that I assumed were filled with medical paraphernalia. A cross between the operating table and the beds was in the middle of the room, looking rather like a dentists' chair straightened out.

I gave Hanatarō a half-smile. "You never healed my leg."

His mouth went into a Cheerio shape and he dropped his book, getting to his feet and reaching out a hand. "Hanatarō Yamada."

"Shizuka. Before we start, I should tell you that—"

He cut me off, but not with the same brusqueness of his commanding officer. "You have a lot more wrong with you than that gash?"

I nodded, sending a questioning look. "How did you know?"

He shrugged as he took two disposable latex gloves out of a box and put them on. "I'm a medic. I'm used to looking for signs... and there are a lot of Shinigami that think that getting injured is embarrassing or shaming and try to hide it."

He was shy, but his voice levelled with authority and calm when he spoke of his profession. He knew what he was doing. I nodded in acceptance and looked down at my white nightdress. I took a deep, silent breath.

"I'll turn around. Everything off except underwear, please."

Feeling vulnerable and pretty defenceless wasn't my favourite state of mind, but I was distracted by a few seconds of curiosity as I realised that he had guessed – correctly – that even though he would soon inevitably be seeing me in just my knickers, I would appreciate him giving me a few seconds of privacy as I took off my dress. I closed my eyes, then slipped off the white fabric over my shoulders, knowing that raising it over my head was a bad idea and that I was sure as shit skinny enough to slip out of it. I sat on the bed in the middle, which was covered in a thin sheet but made the crinkling sound of some plastic probably underneath. As I knew that my worse scars were on my back, and that I wanted to preserve what little dignity I had, I swivelled around until I was facing the other way.

I knew the second he turned around from the sharp intake of breath. A few seconds later his hands were ghosting over the ridges, carefully pressing and pulling, poking and eventually following them around to the side of my ribcage. I lifted up my arm slowly, letting him see how the muscles twisted and bunched the wrong way, stuttering to halt when they started to twinge rather sharply in pain.

He gently placed a hand under my wrist, letting me release the tension. He started to examine my arm, twisting it slowly from side to side and bending it in all possible directions carefully. He did the same routine with my left arm and then with slow deliberation stepped around the bed and came to the front. I'd kept my eyes open, and I could tell from the look on his face that he was most definitely looking at the stab wounds on my stomach. He did a cursory check of my legs, which were fairly unscathed as running was what I needed to do most. What little energy I'd had to spare on healing had been used there. His eyes moved back up and locked onto the ugly blemish over the left side of my chest and almost unbelievingly pressed his fingertips on the middle of it. He sent out his reiatsu for the first time, and looked up and met my gaze. I could tell how shocked he was. He must be able to feel how the sword had missed my heart by next to nothing.

He broke the eye contact and stepped around to the back again. He touched the corresponding scar on my back. It wasn't that noticeable compared to others, but it was once you realised it was from a sword going clean through my body.

"Well," he finally said. "I don't think I'm going to start by healing that gash."

I gave a short laugh.

"How old are these claw wounds?"

I tilted my head. "Over a year, I think."

He fell silent. Then he asked: "And how did you survive all this? Any one of these could have led to serious infection, most of them internal bleeding, vital organ failure... And the one close to your heart would have surely meant you bled to death."

His stark words didn't make me uncomfortable. "That one... because it was fixed by someone better-versed in the arts of healing." I didn't want to say how I'd failed to escape in the first invasion, and only had Tousen ram right through me, and that my father had spent so much energy saving me and hiding me that he'd been too weak to even defend himself later. The Shinigami hadn't even hesitated. They hadn't even given him a chance to fully raise his hands or speak a word. I knew Aizen had planned it, that's why he'd forced my father to wear Espada colours and ditch his Shinigami clothes; he wanted me to see...

I pushed away my thoughts and focused on Hanatarō's voice. I didn't want to hate Shinigami and all they represented, too. That would leave me with few people I could stand to carry on existing.

"Whoever they were, they were a very good medic. I doubt I could save someone from that, even if I saw to them immediately."

I shrugged. My father had been good at healing.

His hands touched my back again and rested on the most patchwork quilt part. "These are deep and will require a lot of sessions to properly heal and knit the muscles back together, as well as rehabilitation as you work your muscles back up." He paused. "And you'll need to start on a good, healthy diet immediately as well as some very light exercise. We can talk more about that once I've done some preliminary repair work over the next couple of days."

I nodded this time. "I don't care so much about the scars themselves, so don't waste your time trying to get my skin back to its once-pristine state. I just want to be in full working condition."

"Alright," He agreed neutrally as I felt his warm energy start to crawl over me. It was bliss.

Soon I began to feel how my muscles jumped and moved, sliding under my skin to join again as they had been before they were shredded and torn. It was a bizarre sensation, somewhere between a tickle and an itch. Soon my back in general began to feel hot, almost like the patches were overheating from too much reiatsu, and not long after Hanatarō stepped back.

"I need a short break. After, I want to check your immune system and then I can do some work on the bigger ones."

I just nodded silently, picking out the warm parts and working out what he'd already healed. From what I could tell, he'd done almost all of the deep ones and few that had gotten infected which I'd clumsily had to cauterize with some help from my Zanpakutō. That was... a lot. He was a much better healer that I had expected, though I supposed it would make sense to have someone pretty decent if you were only going to have one healer-type stationed down here permanently.

He appeared in my field of vision drinking from a plastic bottle of water. He offered it to me. I accepted with a low thanks and felt how the cool water slid down my throat, offering some relief from the heat. As I did so, he knelt and neatly healed the gash on my leg.

He took the bottle back once I'd finished and returned to his previous spot.

"This might feel a bit strange, but it shouldn't hurt."

I shrugged slightly. The 'shouldn't' didn't comfort me overmuch, but I was, unfortunately, well-used to pain. I blinked as I thought of a question I should've asked before. I twisted slightly and looked back at him. He looked back, a little startled. His hands were already glowing blue.

"Is this a real body?"

The light faded as his brow furrowed.

"Yes. It's certainly not a gigai. If it's fake it's like nothing I've ever seen before. I don't think you can fabricate something this complex. And in any case," He reached out and tapped the left side of my back. "This heart is beating and emits the wavelengths of... well. A half-Shinigami, half-human." He watched me carefully, seeing how I would take this news.

I smiled. "Good. I'll let you get on with it now."

He smiled back, a little confused, but reciprocal nonetheless. I turned back, and the remaining doubts I'd had about Shinigami slipped from my mind. They were pretty decent.


End file.
